


at sea

by royalsunshinehotel



Category: Modern Love - Fandom, Modern Love 2019
Genre: Gen, I hope, It's Soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29830131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royalsunshinehotel/pseuds/royalsunshinehotel
Summary: Snippets of your relationship with Joshua.
Relationships: Joshua Madika/Reader, Joshua/ Reader





	1. Chapter 1

You weren’t quite sure when or where you had met Joshua, but he and Emma had dropped into your life so quickly, you didn’t mind. 

Emma was okay, but you were closer with Joshua. Emma didn’t seem too concerned, so the dynamic was solid. 

Until now, that is. 

It was nice. He’d come to your place after leaving Emma. If he wasn’t so upset, you’d feel a strong sense of spite, maybe with some pride peppered in. He’d picked your worn-down studio over their nice brownstone. Ha.

“I can’t believe she’d do this to me.” Joshua was a mess.

It was about 4am when he’d come barreling into your door, distraught, rare for someone so bubbly.

Emma’s a goddamn moron. 

What you didn’t get was how Joshua had packed up all of his stuff and made it onto the subway all the way out to the Bronx. Not only had he not gotten attacked, but he was coherent enough to make it to your door. 

He must trust you a lot. 

That wasn’t a priority at the moment. 

Your pacing around your living room, he’s sitting on your partially-broken couch, drinking heavily. You’re pissed off. Next time you see Emma, it’s on sight. 

You’re legally crazy, you could (kind of) get away with murder. You couldn’t tell him that though. 

“With her high school boyfriend.” You’re drinking kombucha. You’ve just started on new medication, and you need to be more responsible. 

He needs you more than you need yourself at the moment.

“Yeah.” He stares down at the fuzzy socks you bullied him into wearing. An upset Joshua was surprisingly receptive to “fuzzy socks make you feel better.”

“Her high school boyfriend?” You didn’t get it. You couldn’t wrap your mind around it, and honestly? How dare she put you in this position. 

Sleeping with your high school boyfriend? In this economy? How dare she make you have to comprehend what the hell she just did.

“…Yeah.” Your heart jumps at his hesitation. 

He’s curled in on himself, seemingly trying to become one with your couch. That’s not great. You’d been on the edge too many times, but if he was about to jump, you would too.

“What kind of tacky backwoods bullshit is that?” You spit, stopping your angry pacing to take a sip of your drink.

He huffs, lightly laughing at how American you sound, “I have no idea.” But the small, victorious feeling you felt was lost to a small-sounding.

“I lost her to a high school boyfriend.” 

Goddamn it.

“Joshua, puppy.” You flop down on the broken couch, right next to him. 

“Come here.” You wrap him in a long hug, and you pretend for a moment that Emma doesn’t exist. 

You have to pull back, or you’d have a meltdown, so you do.

“I’m about to be harsh,” You firmly grab his chin while he leans his head on your shoulder,” but I need you to listen.” You feel him hold his breath.

“You didn’t lose her, she wanted someone else.”

“Ow. That was harsh.” He seems to be radiating heat, and you want to think that he’s too angry to go back to her.

“It’s not you, Emma’s her own person,” you were being nice,” and she makes her own choices.” Joshua takes people as they are, and every time he pays for it.

Joshua takes a long breath, staring at the wall for a little too long, “Thanks for that one.” 

But he bounces back, like he always does. 

“Enough about me,” he wipes his eyes with the palms of his hands, “what’s new with you,” you scoff at him, he’s upset and he’s asking about you. 

“I’m doing fine actually,” something flickers across his face. 

He knows you’re lying, he can always tell. 

You want to tell him things had gotten bad, really bad, again. But you’d have to admit it to yourself first. You’d done everything right, but it was back to square one, again.

“I’m gonna make up the couch,” You reach up and take off his glasses, setting them on your chipped coffee table, ”we can talk more about this tomorrow.” 

There’s a silence sitting in the air as you lean up off the couch, walking off to a closet.

You turn around, just to check one last time.

“What did I do to deserve this?” He asks, brown eyes drilling straight into your soul. 

You’d break and tell him everything, but it wouldn’t be fair after a day like today. Maybe later, or never. 

“You’re just you, that’s all.” You toss him a pillow watching as he flops over, asleep in seconds.


	2. imbue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's worried. You are too. Mental health TW

A/N: TW for mental illness and things. Based on me? Nah 

[imˈbyo͞o]VERB(be imbued with)

inspire or permeate with (a feeling or quality).  
He’d been careful with his words when he suggested the two of you left New York, and after about a week of thought, you agreed with him.

It must have been a mistake.

He’s got money, he’s got power, and for some reason, he’s with you. A broke artist from the Bronx. 

The hell did you think you were doing? 

The new place was beautiful, and you don’t belong here. 

He’s going to leave you, you’ll be back to square one with nothing. 

You didn’t deserve him. 

It had all piled up to the point where it had woken you up that night. The lights in the house were still on, at your request and of course Joshua had agreed to it. It made no difference, and you had asked so politely. 

It’s a bad night, obviously. You feel like absolute shit about it, but there’s not much to be done when you get like this. 

And the worst part is, you don’t even know what you’re doing, but you also do, but you don’t, but you do, but you don’t. It’s not your fault though. 

You feel guilty that he worries, you’re going to make him go grey. He’d look quite handsome with grey, and his glasses. That’s not quite the point.

Joshua notices you’re not in bed, and his blood runs cold. He knows exactly what could happen when your condition acts up, and he worries. Of course he does. 

But maybe it’s not so bad. You’re walking in circles around the pool, it’s pretty mild. 

Taking laps around the pool was a lot better than what happened last time. 

Joshua doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him staring. You must look so pathetic, huddled up in your 20$ comforter you’d brought along from your old apartment. 

You might walk until your feet bleed, or until you pass out, but either way he knows he’ll be there. 

Joshua trails along behind you a few laps, observing you carefully, watching how you walked, and how you hit your steps. 

Maybe he could salvage this. It’s a mild night in Los Angeles, anything is possible. 

Maybe he could get some palm trees for the backyard, you’d never seen one before you came here. He’d never seen someone so excited about a tree before. 

Joshua put it on his mental list. The house was still new, and your stuff was still being shipped, of course you felt lost.

‘Yeah, that’ll help,’ he thought. 

He took a few wide steps until he made it to your side. You pause, blank, wet eyes unfocused. Joshua wasn’t an idiot. He had internet access, he knew how this condition worked. There’s nothing to fix. 

“Hey love, hold on.” You pause for a second, eyes focused on the ground, but you feel him redirect your feet into your slippers. 

“Let’s get a move on.” He takes your arm, and he walks with you for the next hour. 

It was about six when you finally finished, and he got you into the doctor at seven.


	3. "Me?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all good now.

You’re recovering, and it’s going well. 

Things took a turn for the worse a couple of weeks ago, and you were worried it had left a dent on your life that you couldn’t buff out. You weren’t sure if you were projecting onto Joshua, or if there was an actual issue. 

He didn’t show there was an issue, so you must be making it up. 

You’d have to talk to your therapist about that. 

There wasn’t anything wrong, not really. You were in your stupidly comfortable bed with someone you love, and the sunlight coming in through the windows makes you forget for a minute the way you’d acted.

He’d pulled back, of that you were sure, but he does that every time he’s got a new idea. 

But whatever he was thinking so hard about, it was going to make you crazier than you already were. 

You poke him, because you miss him. 

It was mean, but you did it anyway. 

Joshua had on his grey college hoodie, and had his face buried in one of your seventeen pillows. In your brain, you quickly run over what a mess you’d been, and how he’d just stood there, unflinching, saying “you need what you need and that’s it.” 

He’s out of your league.

“Good morning, sunshine.” He scoots around to face you, resting a warm hand by the side of your face.

“Good morning.” You reply smoothly, closing your eyes into his touch.

But there’s a pause you don’t quite know what to do with. 

Why was he looking at you like that? He was going to dump you and make you walk back to the Bronx. Oh god.

“YN, i’ve had something I want to ask you-” 

You cut off his morning raspy voice, “So honey, I know we’re supposed to hit the MET next week, but I’m nervous, do you mind helping me out with the theme? I’m not quite sure if I like what I have.”

“YN I-” No, you need to stall.

“I mean I get the aesthetic of the sixties, but why are we even going if Zendaya’s gonna be there.” You overdo your exasperation, when Zendaya’s a lovely girl. You’d only interacted a handful of times, but she’d been charming each time, and gassed up your outfits when you’d needed it most. 

A truly good person. 

“YN-” No.

“I mean I can’t even hate her for looking that good, she’s a polite young lady!” You’re speaking like you’re fifty, Zendaya’s not even 10 years younger than you, the hell are you doing?

He doesn’t try to stall you again, he just reaches past you to his bedside table and picks out a box. 

A ring box. 

Oh my god. 

The ring probably wasn’t even for you. No wait, what? That didn’t make any sense.

Love is trust, and he wouldn’t just break it, not after Emma. He wouldn’t just throw the two of you in the trash like that for some side piece you’d have to jump in the parking lot. 

Would he? 

No he wouldn’t, it’s Joshua. 

Right? 

“I’d really like it if you’d marry me.”

“Me?” You stare at him, shocked. You shouldn’t be shocked, you’d been going together for quite a while now, you’d followed him from New York, and you’d been happy living together. 

And yet you’re shocked.

“Yeah.” He blinks back at you, as if it’s obvious. Joshua adjusts in bed. You’d had your arms wrapped around him with his back towards you, but he wanted to see your face.

“You’re asking me?”

“There’s no one else here..” Joshua adjusts his grip on you, laughing lightly to himself. 

“Are you sure I’m not too much?” His face falls for a moment, “Don’t ask me that, if I ever make you feel like that, it means I’ve failed.’

“So you’re sure.” There’s pressure building in your throat. You’re going to burst into tears in a few seconds. 

This is what regular people do right? Cry when they get engaged?

“Are you sure that you’re sure?”

He groans, “This ring’s from 1921, of course I’m sure.” You pinched him in the arm, like you promised to do if he ever sounded too ‘rich’. 

“I love you.” It’s the easiest thing in the world to say to him, and you’d made a point of saying it more since you’d gotten out of the hospital.

“I love you more.” There’s a moment where you feel normal. You feel good. The silence is welcome instead of something to be feared. 

“Give me your hand, please.” You do. 

He tugs lightly at your fingers with his teeth before sliding the ring onto your left hand. You press your face into his shoulder. 

Joshua loves you. 

You’re wanted. 

You’re safe.


End file.
